Chasing His Kickass Luna Back novel Chapter 100

Abby

The weight of failure feels almost physical, like there’s something sharp and heavy literally lodged in my chest.

I stare at the computer screen displaying “Truffles Unavailable” in blunt, red letters. I’ve sent countless emails to suppliers, spent hours scouring online marketplaces, and I’ve even visited local storefronts to browse their selection, all to no avail.

A part of me wants to give up on the recipe altogether, to throw in the towel and declare the universe the winner in this sadistic game it’s been playing with me. I could hope that this recipe won’t be chosen, or at the very least, that I can read enough about it online to get a good idea as to how to make it.

But another part—perhaps the stubborn or perhaps the hopeful part—won’t let me settle for that. What if this recipe is chosen for the competition? What if the online recipes just don’t do it justice? I need to be prepared, and this could be my last shot at turning things around.

I close the laptop with a sigh, my eyes drifting to a framed picture of me and Chloe on a past mushroom hunting trip. It’s not truffles, but maybe, just maybe, I could find something close, something that’ll at least help me practice the textures and flavors.

…

“Going somewhere?” The voice slices through my thoughts, and I turn around to see Karl standing at the doorway, his eyes lingering on my hiking boots and backpack. It’s early in the morning, too early for anyone but me to be here. And yet there’s Karl, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, as my grandmother used to say.

“That’s none of your business,” I shoot back, my voice carrying a sharper edge than I intended. But really, the last thing I need right now is more complications, more entanglement with him.

He steps into the room, the door falling shut behind him. “Abby, don’t be like this. I told you that I want to help.”

“Well, I appreciate that, but I don’t need help,” I interject, zipping up my backpack with more force than necessary. “I’ve been mushroom hunting since I was a kid. I’ll be fine.”

Karl studies me for a moment, his eyes penetrating, like he’s looking right through me. “You’re not going to find truffles around here, you know that, right?”

“I’m aware,” I snap, “but I need to do something, okay? I need to practice and prepare.”

Suddenly, his demeanor shifts, his voice turning stern, his posture more rigid. “Then let me come with you.”

I blink, surprised. There’s a flash of Alpha energy in his eyes, a silent, commanding aura that’s so at odds with the restrained Karl I’ve been dealing with lately. And in that moment, something in me gives way.

“Fine,” I hear myself say. “You can come.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a split second, I see something there, a glint of something like triumph or maybe relief. “Good,” he says, his voice softening. “I’ll get my stuff.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me alone in my office, staring at the empty space he just vacated. \

Why did I just agree to that?

…

The forest floor is soft beneath my boots, each step muffled by a layer of damp leaves and mossy earth.

A fine mist hangs in the early morning air, casting the forest in surreal grays and blues. I feel like I’m walking through a dream. Or maybe a nightmare, if something were to come out of the mist.

Karl keeps a respectful distance, his footsteps softly echoing my own. We move in a companionable silence, our eyes scanning the ground for any signs of mushrooms.